In my dreams
by Amberlilly
Summary: Set in X-Men: First Class, Charles/Erik. One-shot.


Erik stood wrapped in a fluffy black towel in a small bathroom aboard the ship. That other mutant who had saved him, the telepath, had dragged him onto the deck. Coughing, soaking wet and full of resentment, Erik had been told to follow some chatty brunette woman who led him towards one of the many dingy little bathrooms. He stripped off his wetsuit, water dripping from his body and pooling onto the floor. He dried the water from his skin with the towel, and then wrapped it around his narrow waist. He looked up, and saw his face in the dirty mirror, gripping the sink with both hands. His eyes were blood-shot, red-rimmed, and full of anguish.

Schmidt had gotten away. Tears formed in his eyes but he blinked them back. All those years of searching, wasted. He hadn't expected other mutants. He didn't know there_ were_ other mutants. He had been completely blind sighted by the blonde diamond woman on the boat. The pain she had inflicted using just her mind had been excruciating. And then after trying to smash the boat with heavy metal chains, he knew he had lost Schmidt. In a last desperate attempt to wreak his vengeance on the man who had ruined his entire life, he had used his mutation to latch onto the submarine, in which Schmidt and that blonde mutant had made their escape. That was when the _other _telepath had risked his life to save him, someone he didn't even know.

Erik wondered why the telepath – Charles or whatever his name was – had saved him. Erik knew that if the roles had been reversed he certainly wouldn't have endangered his life for the sake of another. But this man had saved him, regardless of the consequences. While Erik was grateful and in debt to Charles for saving him, he still felt angry. This telepath had read his mind. He knew everything. His mother, his never-ending quest for vengeance, the all-consuming desire to kill the man who had taken her away from him, Charles knew it all.

But despite of the fury he felt towards this new mutant for the violation of his mind and privacy, he felt something indescribable towards the strangely compassionate mutant. When he had been pulled up on the deck of the ship, the concern that had shone from them made Erik feel… something. An emotion that had been lost to him since Schmidt had shot his mother in cold blood right in front of him. Erik shook his head, he needed to think.

After making sure the towel was wrapped firmly around his waist, Erik slung his wetsuit over his arm and hesitantly opened the bathroom door. He was being more cautious than usual because he was surrounded by unidentified mutants with unknown powers. He stuck his head out, there were no people in sight, and he could hear nothing. He quickly formulated a plan which entailed finding some clothes and getting the hell of this ship. He began walking down the long corridor towards the way he had come originally. He began to hear noises, and as he walked further he could discern voices. He paused outside a door; thankfully it was made out of metal so he could use it as a weapon if needed. Erik listened vigilantly; he could make out two women speaking. He realised that one of the women was the brunette who had given him the towel.

Suddenly, he heard a man clear his throat from behind him. Erik whirled around, throwing his hands in the air. The metal door crashed open, narrowly missing the blue-eyed telepath. The two women jumped up from where they were sitting and ran to the door. Erik moved, pressing his back against the wall so no-one could sneak up behind him. Upon seeing this, Charles looked at Erik with sadness in his eyes. The telepath turned to the women who were staring at Erik, and told them to find Erik some clothes. They left, and Charles ushered Erik into the room.

There were maps on the walls, tables and chairs. It appeared to Erik to be some sort of boardroom. Erik, still clad only in a towel, sat down. Charles sat in a chair opposite with him. Erik felt frightened. Not because of where he was, he had been in far more dangerous situations that this, but because of the depth of emotion he could see in Charles' eyes. They were full of pain and sympathy. Erik cleared his throat and looked away.

"How are you feeling?" Charles asked Erik. Erik didn't reply, he merely looked at the wall. Not only was he in a room with a strange man, he was practically naked. He considered himself to be disadvantaged, because this mutant had intimate knowledge of his thoughts and feelings, and Erik didn't know how powerful mutant actually was, but after the scene in the water, Erik knew he would be a formidable opponent. Charles scooted his chair over closer to Erik.

"How do you feel?" He tried again.

Erik looked at him. "Cold," he answered rudely.

One of the women from earlier, the brunette one, entered with a pair of tracksuit pants and a sweater. Erik left the room to dress, but felt strangely unsettled by Charles' concern. Nobody had been that kind to him since his mother. Erik dressed quickly, the tracksuit pants were slightly too short in the leg, but they were bearable, and he joined Charles and the chatty brunette woman, who introduced herself as Moira (as if he cared) and was lead to a bedroom that he and Charles would share for the night, due to the extent of the whirlwind damage inflicted by one of Schmidt's mutant followers, and the inability for help to arrive until early the next morning.

Erik clambered onto the top bunk. He hadn't slept in a bunk since back in the camps. Charles tried to speak to him, but Erik rolled over. He didn't feel like being pitied. Pulling the sheets up to his chin, Erik closed his eyes and tried to sleep. But he couldn't. Instead, he listened to Charles' breathing. He found Charles to be strangely interesting, and he was drawn to him in a way that unnerved him. His whole life, he has had just one goal: kill the man who had murdered his mother. He was so close he could taste it, but his thoughts kept drifting off to think about the strange young man who was sleeping in the bunk below.

Eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep. He had odd dreams. In them he pressed his lips against Charles' throat. Little whimpering sounds escaped from between Charles' lips as Erik ran his hands up and down the inside of his thighs in a slow and steady rhythm, each time getting closer and closer to the crotch of Charles' pants, which were pulled tight around his massive hard-on… then he awoke, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.

From the bunk below, Charles smiled.


End file.
